


The Peculiar Case of one Miss Ruth Bartlett

by lesbiansharp



Category: Historical RPF, The Secret Diaries of Miss Anne Lister (2010), gentleman jack (2019)
Genre: F/F, Historical, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Queer History, original work inspired by the secret diaries of miss Anne lister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 13:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18621784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbiansharp/pseuds/lesbiansharp
Summary: Lady Frances Butler was an upper class woman, she owned her own estate which she had inherited from her parents, who were long since dead. She lived alone with no known suitors or a husband, which I thought was rather peculiar and so I looked into it a bit more to see if she was a widow, given that the woman was well into her late 40s. No husband, no ex-husband, no suitor, no children. Lady Frances Butler was an independent woman; I liked her already.





	The Peculiar Case of one Miss Ruth Bartlett

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for English class a while since, and since Gentleman Jack is now airing I thought to post since I was inspired by Anne Lister as well as Lady Eleanor Butler & Sarah Ponsby. Historical lesbian rights!!

When I was first hired by Gilbert Hankinson, I liked the man. He seemed kind and I felt sorry for him, he was courting a woman who seemed to have no interest in him whatsoever and I was to help him find out why. There weren’t many private detectives in Yorkshire in 1819, so he found me easily, told me about his situation and asked if I would be able to find out more about this Ruth, and possibly why she seemed so reluctant to court Gilbert. Ruth Bartlett was younger than Gilbert by five years, and she worked for a woman named Lady Frances Butler as a lady’s maid. I knew that she lived on her employer’s property and that she had brown hair and green eyes. Gilbert had told me this, and it was all I had to go on, but it was enough. I told Gilbert that I would take the case and try to find out why Ruth was not romantically interested in him.  
Lady Frances Butler was an upper class woman, she owned her own estate which she had inherited from her parents, who were long since dead. She lived alone with no known suitors or a husband, which I thought was rather peculiar and so I looked into it a bit more to see if she was a widow, given that the woman was well into her late 40s. No husband, no ex-husband, no suitor, no children. Lady Frances Butler was an independent woman; I liked her already. Since Ruth spent her time living with and working for this woman, I found it of importance to look into her status and past, however what little documents I found had limited information at best. All the information I had on Ruth Bartlett was that she was nineteen, and worked as a servant. She had worked in two other households before working for Lady Butler, only staying for a few months at each. However, she had been working for her current employer for nearly two years, and it appeared to be a successful arrangement. Since I was unable to find any more details about Ruth or her employer, I made a plan to go to the estate and see what I could find out from observation.  
I went to the big property, which was located just outside of Scarborough, the town in which Gilbert and I lived. I was able to walk there in thirty minutes from my house at the edge of town. The property was quite pretty, and I noticed how well cared for the gardens looked as I examined everything on my way up from the bottom of the path to the house as inconspicuously as possible. Sneaking behind some neatly trimmed hedges which served as a sort of fence for the large, restoration-era house, I peeked through the branches and leaves to see a large window looking into the drawing room where a woman who I could safely assume was Lady Frances Butler, sat reading by the fire. I waited, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ruth. A girl entered the room, her brown hair  
tucked neatly in a simple updo to keep it off her neck and face as she worked. The young woman, likely Ruth Bartlett, took the tray of tea and pudding she was carrying and placed it on the side table beside Frances.  
The older woman smiled at her servant and placed a hand on the younger woman’s arm. They seemed to have a lot of trust and compassion for one another. I could see it plainly and was surprised. Normally, this sort of conduct and caring was not present between most servants and their employers and it made me happy to see that Gilbert’s girl was being treated with compassion while at work. I looked to my notepad and took down a few details which I found significant about what I could see from Ruth’s home/work life, the time she spent away from Gilbert. I quickly jotted down what I needed for the case and lifted my eyes from the paper to the drawing room view from the outside window. I did a double take as I watched Ruth’s lips move against and then away from Lady Butler’s, her hands tangled in Frances’ silver hair. I looked away so fast I could’ve snapped my own neck, I did hear it crack at least. I fell back onto my arse, into the hedges, until I was basically inside of the shrubbery. For a good fifteen minutes, I just sat there, shocked to the core and thoroughly dishevelled, branches were poking me in places I’d really rather not be poked, so I got up and collected myself as inconspicuously as I could. I looked back over to the drawing room window, Frances and Ruth were no longer there. I brushed myself off and “fluffed” the unfortunate hedge, as you would a pillow, trying to cover my clumsy tracks. I had a lot to contemplate as I made my way home along the main road, and towards home. I opened the front door to my flat and collapsed onto the chesterfield, immediately reaching for my notes to add to them. This was fascinating, this was going to be an interesting case, I was excited. But upon thinking more in depth about the situation at hand, I knew I really couldn’t tell my client of this recent development in my investigation. I liked Ruth, she seemed like a kind young woman and she didn’t deserve what was likely to happen if I told Gilbert about what appeared to be going on between her and Lady Frances.  
I resolved not to tell Gilbert about Ruth’s relationship with Frances Butler and tucked my notes on it into my safe that I kept specifically for the more secret cases I worked on. I turned in for the night, thoughts racing through my mind. I had to tell my client something, even if it wasn’t the truth.  
The next day, I visited Gilbert to report my “findings”, only, I had thought up a lie to tell him in place of the truth, in order to protect Ruth. I decided to tell Gilbert that I had observed the young girl making counterfeit coins in her room of Lady Butler’s house, and that perhaps she was too preoccupied with her sketchy financial situation to be focussing on a relationship with Gilbert. The man reacted as I expected, showing great

concern for his love and wanting to find a way to help her. I was grateful that he wasn’t angry or felt inclined to report it to the authorities, as coining was a punishable offence which Ruth hadn’t actually committed, of course. However, telling Gilbert the truth would surely ruin him, I believed, and he might wish to cause suffering to both Ruth and Frances which I didn’t want. They surely couldn’t help the way they were and though it wasn’t socially acceptable by any means, I supported them from afar and wished the best for them including safety and security from being found out if they wished to keep their affair a secret.  
I was only a few years older than Ruth myself at the time, I had no family, no lover, I was just Simon Baxter, Private Investigator. I had acquired the job only five years prior, when I was 18. Before this, I had worked for a few people as I was good at observing and catching details as well as retaining data. Occasionally my neighbours would ask for me to find out certain things for them and I would. I was quite good at it, so I made a career out of being sly and sneaky. Occasionally it felt wrong, spying and reporting back, trying to catch detail that would explain situations but overall my job made me feel like I was helping people to fix their problems. Now, however, I felt trapped between a rock and a hard place as I watched Ruth and Frances in the drawing room. I was perched in a much better place this time, in an oak tree that was quite sturdy with large branches that overlooked the drawing room window, ideal for my observations. I watched the two women intently, I felt intrusive but I was curious, how did they manage to keep their homosexual affair a secret? How long have they been with one another? I had, in the past, contemplated being with the same sex, however, I knew it was sinful and put thoughts out of my mind, resolving to focus on my work and studies. It was dark outside, but since it was early August I didn’t feel any evening chill. I shifted my weight on the large branch, locking into the window at the warm light of the drawing room. I could see Ruth inside, laying unceremoniously on her back, spread across the settee. Frances was lying on top of Ruth, tucked against her as if for warmth or comfort. The younger woman had a book in her hands, “Songs of Innocence and of Experience”, and she appeared to be reading from it softly to Lady Frances. They seemed very happy together, there was a visible amount of love between the two of them, and I teared up slightly, realizing how lonely I truly was. The silver-haired woman tangled her hands in Ruth’s hair, and I looked away. I should return home, it was becoming late, and I was intruding.  
After the long walk home, I flopped onto the chesterfield, thinking about the love I’d witnessed, the feelings I missed out on with my very focussed work life, and I thought about Gilbert. The poor man really had the wrong end of the stick, and I had handed it to him. I wished I could tell him the truth, no, I wished Ruth would tell him the truth.

Before Gilbert found out himself and that he did, he told me himself that he knew exactly what was going on, what I was keeping from him. It was 57 and a half days after Gilbert had given me the case, and we were in the main room of his house. I told him to stop and think, he was getting very worked up and I was nervous, the man could be quite frightening when angry. Gilbert looked at me intensely, not with rage but with an immense feeling of betrayal displayed plainly in his eyes, I felt awful. However, I also felt protective of Ruth, the young, innocent servant girl and Lady Frances the mysterious unmarried landowner. I put my hands on Gilbert’s shoulders and looked straight into his grey eyes filled with hurt and disappointment, and shook him. Gilbert yelled, “What in tarnation?!”, quite loud. I was a little shaken by it, I liked the quiet. Yelling and shouting really didn’t go over well with me, however I stayed as calm a I could despite my state of distress and addressed a very ruffled Mr. Hankinson.  
“Please Gilbert, don’t do anything to hurt her! I hardly think she can choose this sort of thing, I - Just don’t you dare! I’m not gonna be responsible for putting that sweet girl in danger.”  
I looked at the man in front of me and didn’t quiver even slightly. I was doing a good job of holding it together.  
“I would never hurt Ruth,” said Gilbert, “no matter what.”  
“Alright, I trust you.” I didn’t, however, what was I supposed to do about it? There was nothing I could do.  
“Good,” said the man.  
“If you’d excuse me, I’ve got a thing.” I didn’t. I just needed to think, so I went home to my flat where I thought long and hard about the potential outcomes of this disaster. Stroking my cat wasn’t quite enough to feel calm, so I decided to go and get a drink at the pub in order to clear my head.  
I sat down in the back corner of the building, sipping my scotch slowly, going through events in my head. I looked around the room, I could see many people who I knew much about even though they didn’t know anything about me. One man who sat near the bar was known by most as a humble brick layer, but he was also someone who would clean up your mess, do your dirty work. He was someone who could make the people causing your trouble disappear without a trace. I knew this because I had investigated him once, for a lady whose brother had mysteriously vanished in 1801.

Now, I watched him intently. He was drinking slowly from a larger glass, with two hands on the thing, not very well-mannered. I looked away, back to my shoes, and traced the wrinkles on the old leather with my eyes until I couldn’t bear it any longer and looked up once more, my eyes returning to the brick layer/assassin, now observing that he had a companion with him. I looked away and back again, trying to get a better view at the newcomer in order to identify him. After several double-takes, I saw that it was in fact Gilbert Hankinson sitting there, negotiating with an assassin. I decided that I absolutely MUST be privy to whatever was going on here, so I pulled my hat down further over my eyes and cautiously moved to a table closer to theirs. From what I gathered, Gilbert didn’t want the man’s services, he only wanted one of his guns.  
“I must do this myself. It won’t be the same if someone else does it,” said Gilbert.  
I heard the other man agree to lend Gilbert a gun with a limited amount of ammunition.  
“Who are these for?” he asked, as he slid three bullets into Gilbert’s hand, under the table.  
Gilbert lowered his voice and said the woman’s name, trying not to be heard by anyone around, however, I knew of a few people he wasn’t so thrilled about right now and the only name with a matching number of syllables to the name Gilbert whispered was Lady Frances Butler. I wanted to leave now, but I couldn’t, not without drawing attention to myself. So I waited until the two of them left, and then another quarter of an hour after that until I myself left the pub. Once outside, I caught my breath, starting to panic now. I had to warn the two women of what was likely to come, I wished to protect both Ruth and Lady Frances. I ran from the pub, along the dirt road leading out of town, towards Lady Butler’s estate. I paused only for a few moments to catch my breath and I got to my destination quickly, running up the stone walkway and past the many well-trimmed hedges. This was not going to be a very fun conversation for either party after I tell them how I had to watch them for Gilbert but how I lied to Gilbert about the coining but didn’t stop observing them for my own sentimental reasons. I knocked on the front wooden door aggressively until I was met with the quizzical look of an older woman with silvery hair, Frances.  
“May I....may I come in?” I asked awkwardly.  
“Of course,” said the woman. “You may but who exactly are you?

“Baxter. Simon Baxter. I’m here because I have reason to believe you’re in danger, Lady Butler,” I stuttered.  
Frances ushered me inside.  
“Why exactly am I in danger?” She seemed amused, but she shouldn’t be, I thought. This was a very serious matter indeed.  
“A man named Gilbert, who your partner, Ruth, is supposed to be courting, has indicated that he wants to harm you.”  
Frances immediately put her hand over my mouth and shoved me against the door I had just entered through. She was quite strong, I was taken aback.  
“He. Is. Here. Right. Now,” she hissed. My eyes widened and I was scared. Gilbert was already here.  
I knew I shouldn’t have bided my time so much at the pub. Frances let go of me and I slumped against the door. The older woman moved very close to me, putting her face right against my ear, and whispered very quietly. She had a lot of questions, evidently, but now was not the time to answer any of them because just then, Gilbert and Ruth entered the room.  
“Well, well, well.” said Gilbert in a tone that was not at all reassuring. “Look who it is.”  
All three sets of eyes were glued to me in an instant, which i found to be rather distressing. I started to quiver in that extremely irritating fashion that always happened when I was in an exceedingly stressful situation, like now. Like a lot of occasions lately, I mused. After a moment, both Ruth and Frances had torn their gazes from me and were looking at each other, trying to convey words with only their eyes. Gilbert, however, was still looking at me quite intensely, and I looked at the wrinkled leather of my shoes again, pretending that the lines were rivers on a map. After another moment which seemed like a year of endless, silent, staring, I raised my head to look over Gilbert, in hopes of locating the gun I knew he possessed. Who knew what was going to happen next, but I planned to be ready.  
It was too late however, because the moment I saw the tell tale lump under his coat was the moment Gilbert’s arm moved to reach the weapon hidden under layers of clothing. The moment I reached forward to stop him was the moment the bullet he was inserting

clicked into the gun, and the moment I swung my fists and body towards the man in order to redirect his aim somewhere harmless was the moment the gun went off and I heard a sharp yelp from one of the two women in the room, Lady Butler.  
The second the silver-haired woman dropped to the floor, events began to go by in slow motion. Gilbert was leaving through the front door, gun in hand, and I could do nothing to stop him. I slowly sank to the floor near a very wounded Frances, extremely shocked. It felt like I was going to die. Ruth went into full crisis mode, hovering around her partner, panicking, but there was nothing more she could do besides apply pressure to Frances’ bleeding side and press her lips to the older woman’s hairline, tears mixing with the blood that seemed to be all over the place. I was starting to shut down entirely, everything was blurry but I was still there and I knew I had to snap out of it. I needed to help Ruth, I needed to save Frances, I needed to track down Gilbert. But I couldn’t even move.  
Time passed and things went on without me, all around me. Ruth didn’t try to get my attention, to get me to assist her, she was far too engrossed in trying to stop Frances from losing too much blood, but the older woman was fading fast.  
A loud sob from Ruth after what seemed like a decade after the shot was fired, but was most likely only a few minutes after that awful moment was what finally got me to blink, take a breath, and stand. The servant girl looked up at me, her eyes puffy and red and pleading, praying for some morsel of hope that Frances would be alright. I shook my head slowly, the truth was we were out of town, away from medical assistance, and Frances Butler wasn’t young anymore, and she had lost an insane amount of blood already. The truth was painful and I didn’t blame Ruth for not wanting to face it. I took the young woman’s hand in mine, her fingers sticky with Frances’ blood.  
“I am sorry,” I was. It hurt me immensely, I hurt for her.  
Ruth gave me a weary look and squeezed the hand she held in hers, and let go. Frances had opened her eyes the tiniest bit, but she was nearly gone.  
“Take her, away from here” Frances managed to say, looking at me. It was haunting. Then she looked into Ruth’s green eyes and whispered slowly to her, “My love, my love,” I heard her say before she went quiet, and her eyes remained part way open, but I knew she was gone.

Ruth cried out, and I felt for Lady Butler’s heartbeat. It wasn’t there. I looked at the young woman beside me, sobbing, covered in blood, shaking.  
“It’s going to be okay again, someday.” I whispered in her ear. “Someday, It will be okay again. I promise.”  
Ruth took Frances’ cold hand and removed a silver ring from it and slipped it into her dress pocket, kissing Lady Butler’s forehead one last time before looking at me intensely.  
“Simon Baxter, we have to leave.”


End file.
